To Be With A Rock Star
by ImmortalityBites
Summary: Desmond pines away for Charlie who does not realize his friend's feelings. Set somewhere between premonitions in S3. Fluffy slash.
1. Chapter 1

Title: To Be With a Rock Star (negotiable if you can think of something better)

Rating: T for mild slash. Really mild.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of that such business. Just like playing around. Oh and I do not advocate necrophilia. Just this couple. So much so, in fact, that I joined pretty much because of this story. More to come. I hope you like. :)

Desmond knew it was wrong. Very, very wrong indeed. Some might call it a crime against nature. At the very least it was a crime against his presumably loyal Penny.

"Do ya think that should about do it?" Charlie gasped over his shoulder as he straightened up from his previous bent over position that Desmond had been admiring for a good five minutes. The two men had been attempting to correct Claire's tent, which had been falling into disrepair in recent days, and Charlie had taken the job of re-digging a hole for one of the posts.

"Aye brotha, that _should_ do it." Desmond managed a nervous smile as he stood up, brushing the sand from his suddenly tight pants. He sauntered over as best he could to the tent, and tested the post, wiggling it a little from side to side.

"We make a good team," Charlie grinned. "Yet another reason to keep me alive."

"I don't need a reason, Chahlie." Desmond responded a little too quickly and strongly, but seeing that the other man was joking tried to shrug off the sudden gravity.

"Claire'll be so thrilled." Charlie announced as they backed up to view their handy work, which had progressed nicely during the past few days. Days which Desmond had extremely enjoyed, and was sad to see go. No, why would he be sad to see temptation go? There's no use pining away from some man who's already nearly betrothed to some other lass, Des scolded himself. Especially when they both live down the beach from you.

"As she should be. You've done rather well." Desmond agreed, wondering if there was any way he could detain the rock star for a little longer. He paused at that thought. He had never been much into music, moreso football. But to be with a rock star was not a shabby thought. No, there will be no being with he corrected himself.

"Well of course it was the both of us. Couldn't have done it without ya mate."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!" Charlie clapped a hand on Des's shoulder. It was quite amusing to see the shorter man stretch like that. I bet he's capable of more stretching than that the evil part of Desmond's mind sniggered.

"Do you want to accompany me to share the good news?" Charlie offered. Desmond mentally chastised himself again for allowing the conversation to lapse se so one sidedly. Not that he especially wanted to visit the girl whose boy he had been ogling while supposedly doing a favor. But Charlie prodded again. "C'mmon mate. It's only a little ways."

However his feelings, he had been deftly presented with a fine opportunity to prolong the company of his affection and, not wanting to test the fates, decided to take him up on his offer. "Fine, but only for a short while brotha."

"Alright then, _brotha_." Not being one to allow an eccentric habit slip away without harassment Charlie nudged Des in the side, chucked and proceeded ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

Desmond knew they were going the wrong way. Instead of heading down the coast to where Claire should be, probably accompanied by Sun or Hurley, Charlie had veered off more towards the jungle. However, he did not stop to correct the Charlie's mistaken path, merely content to be in his presence. And to walk behind to get another glimpse of his backside. A sudden halt from Charlie brought Desmond to his side. "What's happening brotha?" he inquired. Glancing around, all he could see were random plots of flowers and trees. They weren't anywhere near the civilization both had come to know on the island.

"Have ye no romantic bone in your body, mate?" Charlie prodded as he bristly walked over to a clump of flowers and began gingerly plucking them from the ground. "These'll be the icing on the cake."

Of course, Desmond thought disappointedly. Still thinking about Claire. Even when she wouldn't return Charlie's affection, she was all the rock star could think about. How bloody hysterical life is Desmond groaned inwardly as he knelt down and began snatching up random flowers with weeds intermediately mixed in. That apparently caught Charlie's close attention.

"Nah mate you're doing it all wrong!" he chastised Desmond, and gently nudged him to make room. As he knelt beside him Desmond could faintly feel warmth emanating from Charlie's body. He supposed the other could feel his as well although he made no sign that he had. It was rather comforting, and Des unconsciously inched closer, pretending to be reaching for an extra special flower. Charlie continued picking, humming softly. Probably that blasted hit single his band once had he thought maliciously. Desmond wished that his partner's band had been more successful. Or had at least sounded more like The Beatles. Still, even after all those repeated listenings, it was a good song.

"About…got…it…." Charlie muttered with his tongue clenched between his teeth as he struggled to tie the bouquet together with a long dandelion stem. Mistakenly assuming that the mission was complete, Desmond stood up with the intention of likewise assisting Charlie into standing position. Blindly waving his left hand above him, Charlie continued to try to tie the batch of flowers insistent on not cooperating. Des seized Charlie's bandaged clad fingers and jerked upward, only to find the other yelp in protest and tug back, catching him off balance. Without any grace whatsoever, Desmond made a loud thump as he hit the ground and Charlie's knees, and, once he regained a bit of his composure, found himself lying on top of the grinning rock star.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: They say brevity is the soul of wit. That's the excuse I'm sticking to anyway. ;) Sorry that my chapters tend to be short, it's just not my style to write more than I must. If you have any ideas, please feel free to let me know.

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"Brotha,' Desmond whispered, more to himself in a prayer of thanksgiving than to the man he was currently crushing beneath him. He could feel Charlie's knees digging into his rib cage, but he could feel more than that, thus covering the pain altogether with the ever present lust renewed. However, Charlie did not appear to feel the same. 

"Whoa mate, this is a compromising position if there ever was one!" He giggled. "Us, lying like this, in a bed of flowers…."

Desmond looked around and was reminded of their flower finding mission. What a location indeed. "Yeah" he grinned sheepishly, stalling before the inevitable end of this often hoped for physical contact. He was closer than he ever dared to dream, and was suddenly possessed with a need to make things known to Charlie. Now or never.

"You know, I didn't mean to do that." The rock star was busy explaining. "Not that I wouldn't, I mean, you're a lovely bloke…." As he stammered away Desmond suddenly became aware of faint conversation drifting towards them from the shore. They weren't that far away from the rest of the camp he reminded himself as he began to decipher footsteps from the surrounding forest noises.

"Shhhh!" He commanded Charlie as he pressed a hand to the stuttering man's lips. Not understanding the not-too-subtle hint, Charlie struggled to speak loudly.

"Mmm mmm Desmmmd!"

"_Charlie?"_

The pair's respective heads snapped around to see Claire and Kate standing ten feet away in the clearing, jaws to the ground. Kate looked amused as she crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side, whereas Claire was frozen in complete shock. Slowly Desmond lifted his hand from Charlie's mouth, too stunned to do anything else. Like get you up idiot! his mind directed.

"It's not what you think!" Charlie cried as he struggled to stand.

"What's going on over there?" Desmond could hear the distinct and dreaded sound of Sawyer's approaching voice.

"No no nonono." That got Desmond to his feet, his fear of new and offensive nicknames driving him. He waved at Claire, held up his batch of flowers, then thrust them into Charlie's chest, and began rapidly walking in the opposite direction.


	4. Chapter 4

Desmond felt like a bloody fool. How could I have screwed things up so royally? his mind inquired as he watched Charlie and Claire argue from afar. It was really a one sided confrontation, with Claire screeching repetitive questions and Charlie stammering to come up with reasonable answers. And how could he? Wasn't the poor rock star's fault that I couldn't let the situation alone, he thought miserably. But how to tell Claire that? He'd seen the way Claire fumed in his direction upon their return to the beach. He would have gone right over to apologize if not for the fact that Kate and Sawyer, now joined at the hip it seemed, were steadily approaching the camp. So he had retreated like the coward he was to his tent. Always running, from one blasted thing to the next. Well it stops now, he resolved silently as he retreated inside his tent, resigned to an early and sleepless night.

And it was a restless night indeed. The sounds around him seemed to be magnified and bent on keeping Desmond awake as he stared at the wood and tarp above. Burying his fists into his eyes he wished desperately that Penny were there to comfort him. Penny or anybody for that matter. He had felt alone before, in his resolve to train for the race, on the sailboat, even confined in the hatch. But this was different. He had a goal back then, even if it was a silly one. But now what? He had been reduced to listlessly longing for someone who couldn't possibly return the sentiment. And in the process he had even hurt the person he had cared for. And what are you doing about it? his mind viciously asked. Absolutely nothing. A path I might as well stick to. You've messed things up, true, but you won't be the one to make them worse he decided as he slowly began to sleep in the earlier hours of the morning. However, the little part of his brain in the back of his head knew otherwise. And deep down Desmond knew it too.


	5. Chapter 5

It was fairly late in the day when Desmond finally woke up and crawled out of his tent, rubbing his eyes and wondering if he hadn't again gotten stinking drunk the night before. Wouldn't be anything new, his mind acknowledged, but even though he couldn't exactly remember what had occurred the night before he knew it had nothing to do with liquor. Something much worse.

Stumbling out into the sunlight, he arched his back and stretched his tired limbs. His mind still felt groggy, a sign that he hadn't gotten to sleep until the morning, and then had over slept. As his muscles responded deliciously to the stretch the memories of the past night crept back into his mind. Convulsively he covered his eyes again as he remembered the fool he had been. He straightened up quickly, remembering too his prior resolution.

Des slowly made his way towards the jungle, feeling more alert and despondent by the minute. Thoughts of Charlie's whereabouts began to cloud his brain until the voice inside sternly instructed him that no contact whatsoever should be sought out. Still, even though he could not physically be in the company of the rock star, he could gauge the effects of yesterday's events by the reaction of his fellow islanders. So, deviating from his normal routine, he snuck into camp almost guiltily for breakfast.

Sun was the first person to greet Desmond that morning, and it was no different than any other day. Aloof, but polite, she had smiled as she went about her morning routine. Next was the affable Hurley.

"Desmundo!" He happily shouted from his seat outside his tent, a box of Dharma cereal in his clutches. Desmond waved back and managed a thin smile, which pleased the large man so much that he quickly rose and joined him.

"What can I do for ye, Hurley?" Desmond asked when he noticed that his new company intended to prolong the greeting.

"Nothing, dude." Hurley munched in response as they continued walking towards the food. "It's just that… Charlie's, like, not himself today. And, ummm, I know that, like, something went down between the two of you and I was wondering, like, what's the matter?"

"Hey, hatch boy!" Desmond raised an eyebrow and stopped just as he was about to pluck a piece of fruit from the carton. "What do you think you're doin'?

"Yours too, brotha?" Desmond testily inquired as he held up the fruit, quite aware by now of the redneck's hoarding fixation.

Sawyer in turn jerked his head to the side and huffed. "No _brotha_," He violently rolled his eyes, "With Chucky and little Mamacita. Kate's been over there the whole damn night comfortin' the little miss!"

"And why should you care?" Hurley asked as he shoved another handful of cereal in his mouth, obviously irritated by Sawyer's presence.

"None of your business Hoss." Sawyer shot back.

Desmond by now had managed to ignore the bickering of the other two men in order to concentrate on the news, none of which was very comforting in his current state.

"I…I… I have to go." Des muttered, excusing himself from the conversation. His departure finally halted the hostility, but when Hurley attempted to call out for Des he was already gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Desmond's legs moved jerkily yet with surprising alacrity as he made his way deeper and deeper into the jungle. Commanding himself not to think, he instead focused on the mindless task of steadying his pace. He was met with varying degrees of success. On the one hand, his stride soon took on the appearance of a normal tread and his breathing slowed significantly, but on the other insistent thoughts of Charlie kept bombarding his brain. Where is he? Is he all right? What did he say to Claire? What does he think of me? He probably bloody well hates you, that's what, his mind conveniently opted to fill in the last blank. That's a given, Desmond acknowledged despairingly, but is he OK? I just want to know that. Just that. "But ye never will." He whispered silently, as if saying it aloud somehow wrote it in stone.

Looking down, Des noticed offhandedly that he no longer held his breakfast in his hand. In his sudden dash from the beach he had neglected to take better care of his food. "Bother, just one more thing to take care of," he muttered, although not as angered as he expressed. Just another simple task to kill time. He'd have to be coming up with a lot of them if he was to be on this ridiculous island without his best friend's company.

Finding food wasn't the trouble for Desmond. He'd done it often enough, and knew his way around the island better than he would have liked. However, actually laying his hands on the food was another matter entirely. And as he looked up at the nearest coconut tree he wondered if it was even worth it. His stomach, nevertheless, argued differently. Slowly he placed one foot and then the other at the base of the tree and began the arduous climb.

After managing to climb halfway up the tree and, in the process, endure some painful chaffing, Des believed that this might be a mistake. The afternoon sun was beating down upon him, and coupled with the fact that he was without proper food in his system, he began to feel very weak. Around this same time Desmond heard what he thought were the faint notes of a guitar somewhere off to his right. _Charlie?_ his mind thought wildly, and in a near panic he began to work his way down the tree. Suddenly his left foot slipped from under him and Desmond went plumping down to the ground. The fall knocked him out cold.


	7. Chapter 7

When Desmond came to he was propped up against the coconut tree and sporting a raging headache. This is getting ridiculous, his mind murmured, it's a hangover without the lovely drinking part. As the cloud of pain began to clear he made a move to stand, but was pushed back by a pressure to his right shoulder. "Easy there, mate." Came a calm voice, and immediately Desmond's eyes leapt open. What he saw was better than any bloody cocktail. What he saw was a rock star's grinning face.

"Chahlie?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, mate. Why don't you sit right there? I've got you some nice cool water." He reached to the side and produced a gallon of water, which Desmond took with thanks.

"How'd you find me, then?" he inquired after a lusty gulp of water.

"I was over in the jungle a little ways playing my guitar when I heard a large thump." Charlie explained. "Why were you up there in the first place? We've got plenty of food back at the camp."

"I…I was hungry." Desmond lamely managed. "Chahlie, brotha, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble for ye."

"It wasn't any problem, mate." Charlie soothed in return.

"No, no it's not. I know you're with Claire—"

"It's got nothing to do with Claire."

"—and I shouldn't have done what I did and—"

Suddenly the rock star leapt forward and pressed his lips against Desmond's who, in turn, was shoved back against the prickly exterior of the coconut tree. Once he got over the initial shock he deepened the kiss, pushing Charlie forward and reaching up to cup the sides of his face, feeling the rough surface of his beard, then sliding his hands to the back of his head, then down his torso to tug at the edge of his shirt.

Charlie leaned back, breaking their embrace, gasped and smiled wickedly. "You sure work fast, mate."

Desmond quickly pulled his wandering hands away, now unsure. "Right. What if someone were to see us?"

"Nah it's not a bad thing." He chuckled and lifted off his shirt on his own accord, revealing a muscular and tan body that made Desmond's mouth water. "It's just, I've always wanted to be with an alcoholic Scot."

"Yeah, and I've always wanted to be with a rock star." Desmond countered as he playfully swiped at Charlie, then lunged and pulled the other man onto the ground and pounced on top of him. This time on purpose.

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The end. :) Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It was a lot of fun writing this. Just might have to make it a habit. 


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